Take Your Memories
by Rachel Wilder
Summary: Tim's birthday present to Jason is the one that only he can give him a chance for a new life.


"Okay, that's the last one," Tim said as he pulled the final DVD off the shelf and put it in the box sitting on the chair next to Jason.

Jason nodded his head, not saying anything. He took a long look around the room that had been his for over ten years—from the time they moved into this house until the night he broke his neck.

"You ready to go back down?" Tim asked.

Jason pushed his chair forward a couple of feet and looked at the pictures on the wall. Pee wee. JV. Sophomore year—first year on varsity backing up Joe Murphy who went on to play at UT. Junior year—first year as QB1. Everyone in the pictures looked so serious. Except Riggins who looked like he'd swallowed a canary.

"Put the pictures in that other box, would you, Tim?"

Tim didn't say anything, just started taking the framed photos off the wall and putting them in the second box they'd brought up with them. When he finished taking the last picture off the wall, Tim flopped down on Jason's old bed. "You need me to look under the mattress and clean up any leftover magazines, Jay?"

Jason laughed. "Nah, I only looked at those when I was over at your house."

"Yeah, cause your mom woulda found 'em when she made your bed, Street," Tim replied.

"I made my own bed," Jason protested. "Still do." But he knew what Tim was really saying—he'd had parents around the whole time he was growing up, watching what he was doing and caring about him. Tim had never had that, even when his parents still lived with him.

"So, what's this all about, Street?" Tim asked.

Jason shrugged. He wasn't sure he was ready to say it out loud yet.

_"Okay, let's wrap it up, gentlemen." Jason leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and watched as the offense pulled off their helmets and headed back toward the field house._

_"Good to have you back, Coach," Saracen said as he jogged by._

_Jason dropped his hands down to his wheels and pushed across the grass. If it wasn't for Riggins not being here, he'd almost feel like they hadn't made the trip to Mexico at all._

"You done with the Panthers?" Tim asked as he turned his head to look at Jason.

"Are you?" Jason replied.

Tim shrugged. "Coach seems to be done with me. Guess you had a couple more second chances left."

"Sorry if the trip messed everything up for you," Jason answered. "You want me to talk to him? Tell him that it was me that made you go."

"You couldn't have made me go if I didn't want to," Tim replied. "Plus, I'm just giving him a little more time to cool off. And I've got Smash helping me."

Jason laughed. "Did you seriously go over to his house for dinner?"

"Hate to say it, Street, but his mom's apple pie is better than your mom's."

_"You pick out that birthday present yet, Riggs?" Jason asked._

_Riggins laughed through the phone line. "Didn't have time—I was summoned over to Williams' house tonight for dinner. He had some important things to tell me about how to get back on the team, probably stuff he learned last year during his flirt with 'roid rage."_

_"You had dinner with Smash?" Jason asked, shaking his head._

_"Hey, his sisters are cute and his mom can definitely cook."_

_"I think I'm jealous," Jason replied. "But, seriously, Riggs—I need you to come over. I've got something I need to do and I…I need some help with it."_

"You know, thanks for doing this," Jason offered. "There's nobody else who'd do this for me. I told my mom to do it last fall but she still hasn't done it. There are some days I think she's doing okay with all this and then…"

The room fell silent as both boys looked at the bare wall where Jason's trophies and team photos had been located.

"You know, Street—you gotta take your memories where you can get 'em," Tim finally said.

"Yeah," Jason answered, his voice quiet. The dreams had stopped for the most part, but when he watched Saracen launch a bomb down the left side and straight into Smash's hands, he could remember what it felt like. There were times when he was pushing down the street full out that it almost felt like when he'd break free of the line and be running down toward the end zone with the crowd screaming and the safety's breath on his neck.

But they were all just memories now.

"You gonna leave Dillon, Six?" Tim asked, looking at the wall instead of at Jason.

Jason knew what Tim was really saying. _You gonna leave me? _ He wanted to leave Dillon—more than anything he wanted to go somewhere where no one looked at him with that pained expression on their face.

But he couldn't leave Tim. Not until Tim was ready to make it on his own.

"Nah—I'm just letting go of the football stuff, the old Jason stuff."

"What do you want to do with those films?" Tim asked as he sat up and pointed at the box of DVD highlight reels.

Jason shrugged. "You want 'em?" Tim had never been able to afford to buy the reels at the end of the season when the boosters had sold them. He'd always just borrowed Jason's if he wanted to watch.

"Nah—old news," Tim replied.

"Think I'm gonna give 'em to Coach. He can lend them out to JV guys," Jason answered. He looked over at Tim, his face serious. "You're right, you know."

Tim raised his left eyebrow. "Right? About what?"

"Memories. They're not such a bad thing," Jason answered.

"'Specially not if they're of Garrity in that little dress," Tim replied.

Jason ran his hands across his lips, remembering the softness of her lips, the smell of her up against him once again. He smiled. "Yeah."

Both boys were silent, then Jason broke into a laugh. "Man, I can only imagine what her preacher would have thought of that night!"

"We never should have let her leave," Tim responded. "She was definitely ready to go for it."

Jason shook his head. "In your dreams, Timmy."

Tim half-closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "Every night, Six—every night."

"Boys? I've got supper ready."

Jason and Tim looked over at the door as Jason's mom walked in. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Just packing some things up, Mom," Jason said.

She looked like she was going to cry. It was still hard for her, although she'd gotten a lot better about his injury over the past year. Even when he got home from Mexico; it hadn't been nearly the scene he'd anticipated.

_Jason pulled up in the driveway and reached behind him to pull out the wheelchair Tim had moved from the bed of the truck after he got out at his house. Jason popped on the wheels and carefully slid down from the seat in the truck into his chair._

_No parents._

_Certainly they'd heard him pull up._

_He grabbed his bag and set it on his lap before heading up to the front door. He reached for the knob and it turned easily in his hands._

_At least they hadn't changed the locks while he was gone._

_He popped his front wheels over the threshold and pushed into the foyer._

_No sign of them, yet._

_He headed back toward his bedroom to drop off his bag when he heard the sliding glass door close. He dropped his bag and headed back toward the kitchen._

_"I'm home," he said as he entered the room._

_His mom turned and looked at him. "Okay." It was a quiet 'okay' and clearly she was pissed, but he was home, safe and intact and obviously that was going to be the end of them talking about it.  
_

In some ways he wished that they had gotten more upset with him. Instead he had gone to the bank, deposited the remaining $8,000 back into his account and they didn't talk about it. But now, packing his football things up seemed to be having more of an effect.

"It's time, Mom," he said.

She smiled at him and nodded her head, but tears glistened in her eyes.

"I'm just going to take this stuff down, Six, and then I'll be back," Tim said as he stood up and grabbed the boxes of photos and videos.

"You can put those photos in the garage, but just leave the videos on the piano," Jason instructed.

"So, I made up some Sloppy Joes for you and Tim and then we have cake and ice cream and things for when everybody else comes over later," Jason's mom said.

"Thanks, Mom," Jason replied.

Joanne nodded and smiled. "Well, we missed last year…"

His mom had always given him a big party but last year his birthday had come the night after he found out about Lyla and Riggins. Even if she'd planned him a party, he wouldn't have gone to it. What a difference a year had made…

"You ready, Six?" Tim asked as he walked back into the room.

"Yep," Jason replied.

Tim helped Jason up on his back. As they walked out of the room, Jason looked back. You take your memories where you can get them and he wouldn't need to make any more memories in this room. It was old Jason's room and those memories were done.

* * *

"Hey, what's this?"

Jason looked over and groaned. He had meant to have Riggins move the box of videos out of sight, but then Lyla arrived and they were talking and next thing he knew, Buddy was standing there with the DVD of the Arnett Meade game from his junior year.

"Listen here, let's take a look at the glory days," Buddy said as he made his way over to the television. "Mitch, where's your DVD player?"

Jason watched while his dad protested and tried to dissuade Buddy. Lyla had a look of horror on her face and was trying to get her dad's attention, doing everything short of pulling her finger across her neck to try and get him to shut up.

"It's fine—put it in," Jason finally said.

His dad walked over to him. "You sure, son?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly. "I haven't seen it for a while."

A group of football players had gathered as Buddy slid the DVD in the player and settled back on the couch.

"C'mon Jason—come watch this with us and give us the commentary," Buddy said.

Jason waited as his dad settled down in the recliner, then wheeled his chair over next to his dad.

"Haven't seen this one for a while," his dad said as the first series of plays appeared on the TV screen.

This had been the game—the one that got the scouts calling. He'd had over 600 hundred yards of total offense in that game—a record for Dillon and the league. And they'd stunned the league champion, Arnett Meade, with a quick exit from the play-offs.

Even after that game, he couldn't really remember how he'd done it. It had been eerily quiet in his head. He didn't hear the band or the crowd or even the rally girls. He had truly been in the zone.

And after the game, Buddy had come over to him and told him that they were hiring Coach Taylor to be coach the next year after Coach Deeks retired. It was like everything was suddenly going his way.

You can have it all, but you can't have it all at once. If there was one thing that Mexico had taught him, it was that lesson.

He felt Tim's hand on his shoulder and looked up at his friend. Things were going to change, but that didn't mean everything had to change. And he was going to take his memories where he could get them.

/fin/


End file.
